She lashed out with her other hand, but Xiang Yu caught that wrist too. He didn't burn it. No, only the hand that had dared to touch his man would suffer. He wanted it scorched from her body.
Shuang Hua, trembling in agony, gasped, "Xiang Yu… why are you interfering?"
It was known across the realms, Xiang Yu never involved himself in demon politics. He had been mocked as a half-breed, scorned for his mixed bloodline after killing his own father to claim the northern throne.
In the past, many had challenged Xiang Yu's authority, arrogant demons, ambitious demon heirs, even some of his own subjects. All were ruthlessly slaughtered. The demon realm quickly learned that beneath his handsome mortal face lay a cruelty far colder than his predecessor's. He did not seek to expand his territory. He did not crave dominion. But if provoked, his wrath was absolute. As long as the other demon kings kept their distance and respected his borders, he remained a silent storm.
